


naked love (don't you dress it up)

by abovetheruins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff and Humor, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Nudity, The Sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 10:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: “That was just a bit, right?”“Hmm?” Shane hums, glancing up from his burrito bowl. Ryan almost regrets breaking their companionable silence, the kind that always settles over them during particularly long days when they have too much work on their hands and are forced to eat lunch at their desks.“The Sims video?” Ryan prompts, hoping Shane will understand what he’s hinting at so he won’t have to get any more specific.No dice. Shane merely raises an eyebrow and goes, “Yeah?” like he has no idea where Ryan’s going with this.Fuck it. “You don’t really walk around your apartment like that, do you?”Shane’s other eyebrow joins its twin near his hairline. His chewing slows, throat bobbing as he swallows, and Ryan keeps his eyes trained there so he doesn’t have to see the look on Shane’s face.“Is naked the word you’re looking for, Ryan?”





	naked love (don't you dress it up)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the boys’ [latest Sims video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8EM-wSo8dM&t=0s), so it probably won’t make much sense unless you’ve seen it. No excuses for this one, folks! I just took a silly idea and ran with it. Also works as an entry for the shyanscavengerhunt, since one of the prompts this month was - you guessed it - 'the sims' :P
> 
> Full disclosure: this is ridiculous ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“That was just a bit, right?”

“Hmm?” Shane hums, glancing up from his burrito bowl. Ryan almost regrets breaking their companionable silence, the kind that always settles over them during particularly long days when they have too much work on their hands and are forced to eat lunch at their desks.

“The Sims video?” Ryan prompts, hoping Shane will understand what he’s hinting at so he won’t have to get any more specific.

No dice. Shane merely raises an eyebrow and goes, “Yeah?” like he has no idea where Ryan’s going with this.

Fuck it. “You don’t really walk around your apartment like that, do you?”

Shane’s other eyebrow joins its twin near his hairline. His chewing slows, throat bobbing as he swallows, and Ryan keeps his eyes trained there so he doesn’t have to see the look on Shane’s face.

“Is naked the word you’re looking for, Ryan?” Shane asks, a hint of laughter in his voice. Ryan immediately regrets his life choices, most of which have led to him sharing desk space with this man.

He opens his mouth to say no, of course not, ready to throw in a hearty, “Shut up, Shane,” to go along with it, but ultimately decides that honesty is his best policy here. Shane will tease the shit out of him no matter what he says now, anyway. Besides, he _is_ curious. “Yeah,” he says. “That. Do you, you know? Do that?”

Shane snorts into his burrito bowl, which is all kinds of unattractive and highly unhygienic to boot, and shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes,” he says, casual as you please, and goes back to eating his lunch like it’s no big deal.

Ryan turns back to his own lunch, though he makes no move to take a bite of the burrito perched on his desk. Funny, he’d been ready to inhale the thing just a few minutes ago, until a sudden whim had led to him checking the views on their latest video with Kelsey and he’d been reminded of how he’d found their Sims after Shane was done with his turn.

So Shane likes to walk around naked sometimes. So what? Ryan doesn’t care.

_So why’d you ask, dipshit?_ His inner voice sounds a lot like Shane, which is fucked up in so many ways.

He had been curious, that was all. And now he knew, so. Mystery solved.

 

He can’t stop thinking about it.

“Can’t people, you know, see you?” he asks. He’s wrapped up in his sleeping bag, nothing but the top of his head exposed to the dusty, dank air of the attic they’re camped out in for the night. He’s aware of the camera trained on them and the fact that he’s going to have to edit this entire conversation out, but right now he doesn’t fucking care.

“Are you really still on about that?” Shane mumbles, voice sleepy and eyes heavy-lidded behind his glasses, because of course he’s perfectly fine with sleeping in the middle of a haunted attic, and of course the faint thuds they’d heard downstairs half an hour ago hadn’t scared him shitless. Of _course_. “This mean you’ve been thinkin’ about me naked all this time, Bergara?”

Ryan can feel his cheeks heat and is grateful – for once – for the lack of working lights in this particular location. “Shut up, Shane,” he murmurs, wrapping his fingers in the warmth of his sleeping bag and curling up into a ball. It makes him feel warmer and has the added bonus of moving him a bit closer to Shane, and all at once he feels a little safer. “I need you to distract me before I lose it and run out of this house.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Shane grumbles, and then he must get a good look at Ryan’s face, because he sighs and wriggles around in his bag, turning on his side so that they’re facing each other. “I do have curtains, you know. Works real well at keeping away the looky loos.” 

Ryan huffs out a breath that might have been a laugh in a past life, though it’s a little shaky with barely leashed fear right now. “Isn’t it weird, though? I mean, doesn’t it feel weird?”

Shane shakes his head. “Nah, why would it? I'm in my apartment. It’s not like I’m showing up at the office in my birthday suit.”

Ryan’s laugh is genuine this time, a soft wheeze falling into the space between them. “Jesus Christ. Don’t even joke about that, man.”

“Oh, get with the times, Bergara,” Shane says, wriggling an arm out of his sleeping bag so he can point a finger at Ryan. “Au naturel is the way to go, baby.” 

Ryan shakes his head, exasperated but fond all the same. “Maybe for you, big guy.”

Shane shoots him a saucy wink and laughs when Ryan rolls his eyes. “Don’t knock it 'til you try it, bud,” he says.

They move onto other topics, namely what time they’ll need to head to the airport in the morning and where they plan to stop for sustenance (i.e., caffeine) before they leave town. Ryan knows he’ll be a mess come sunrise, but he and sleep deprivation are old friends by now, and besides, he’ll gladly trade feeling well-rested for feeling _safe_.

 

He’s not feeling so safe now.

_Jesus Christ, melodramatic much?_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes at himself. It’s not like anything can hurt him in his own apartment, and that includes any wayward spirits that might have gotten it into their heads to follow him home (he hasn’t told Shane, but he’d stocked up on materials to cleanse his apartment of negative energy long ago, using instructions he’d gotten from Bloody Mary after their investigation in New Orleans).

_Yep, it’s just me_ , Ryan thinks, running his hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s standing in his bedroom, staring down at the boxer briefs and pajama pants he’d tossed on the bed before hopping in the shower. His hand plays idly with the knot of his towel, hesitating, before he breathes out a quiet, “Fuck it,” and loosens the fabric from around his hips. It pools on the floor at his feet and he kicks it towards the hamper in the corner before taking a resolute step toward the doorway. He’d planned on popping in a movie and getting some work done that he hadn’t been able to complete in the office, and all that’s standing in his way is a few measly steps.

Oh, and the fact that he’s naked.

It’s fine. Comfortable, even. He’d turned the AC up so he wouldn’t freeze and he’d made sure to close all the curtains so he could come and go as he pleased without having to worry about – what had Shane called them? Looky loos? Christ. The day’s finally come when he’s modeling his behavior after Shane. Surely the end is nigh.

And okay, maybe he shouldn’t have thought about Shane, because that’s a slippery slope that leads to Ryan thinking about Shane lounging around his apartment with nothing to cover those long limbs of his but miles of pale skin that freckles at the shoulder and turns pink under too much sun.

And thinking about Shane lounging around his apartment leads to thinking about Shane stuffing popcorn into his mouth while he watches a movie or playing a game on his PS4 and yelling at the screen when he dies, or passed out in his huge ass bed that somehow manages to cradle all eighteen feet of him – all things Ryan has witnessed before, mind you, but in his imaginings Shane’s not wrapped up in his usual layers, he’s just fucking naked, and you don’t think about your friends doing ordinary, everyday shit like relaxing on their couch or eating their favorite snack naked. You don’t imagine them doing _anything else_ naked either, or at least you shouldn’t, and if Ryan keeps this up he’s gonna start thinking of Shane doing other things – things better kept to the bedroom that you should definitely be naked for – and if he starts doing that then he’s fucked, fully and completely.

Granted, the fact that he’s standing bare-assed on the threshold of his living room is probably proof enough that he’s allowed this little preoccupation of his to go too far, and for a second he wonders what the hell he’s doing, why he’s still thinking about Shane and Shane-being-naked and how any good can come out of this whole goddamn mess.

And then he tells himself to stop being so fucking negative and marches over to his couch with the sort of grim determination better attributed to more dire situations than hanging out naked in his own apartment on a Friday night, and makes a point of leaving the throw blanket his mom had given him tossed over the couch as he sets up a movie on Netflix and reaches for his laptop. Ryan Bergara never does anything halfway, damn it.

He lasts about five minutes before the sensation of his naked ass against the couch cushions sends him right back into his bedroom to grab the clothes he’d left there, but his head feels a little less cluttered when he sits back down to work. His newly settled state of mind has nothing to do with his little foray into Shane Madej-approved nude lounging, though. 

Well, probably. 

 

Ryan wakes up with dry eyes, a pounding headache, and the distinct impression that something has crawled into his mouth and died. He smacks his lips a few times and peers blearily at the blanket draped over him, moving slowly so he doesn’t aggravate the drumming in his temples. If the blinding pattern of red, black, and grey plaid didn’t clue him in, the denim jacket hanging from a hook by the door would have been enough to remind him that he’d crashed at Shane’s apartment last night, after indulging in a few too many drinks at the bar Jen had invited them to. Ah well, at least he hadn’t been alone. He distinctly remembers Shane perched on the stool next to his, cheering him on as Ryan slammed back shots and then challenging him to a little friendly competition when they were both well into their cups. Ryan doesn’t really remember what the challenge had been – arm wrestling, maybe? Pool? Either way, the shades of smug satisfaction he’s feeling, buried as they may be underneath a few dozen layers of grime and regret, are enough to assure Ryan that he won. He’ll be sure to rub it in Shane’s face later.

A door creaks open down the hall and Ryan’s lips twitch. _Speak of the devil_ , he thinks, and makes a go at pulling himself up enough to peer over the back of the couch.

His mouth, which had been open in preparation for some kind of greeting, closes with a snap as he watches Shane stumble down the short hallway leading from his bedroom to the living room. He makes a short, clumsy turn into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes behind the rims of his clear-frame glasses as he heads towards the fridge. His hair’s a wild mess on top of his head, pillow lines etched onto his cheek and pressed into his arm from where he must have slept weird.

He’s also not wearing a goddamn thing.

Unless his glasses count. Do his glasses count? Ryan doesn’t know. Ryan can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Ryan wonders if this is normal.

Shane fumbles his way over to the counter and rummages in the cabinet. The island in the center of the kitchen hides his lower half from Ryan’s sight for a moment, until Shane pushes himself up onto his tiptoes to reach for a bowl on the top shelf and suddenly the swell of his ass is right there, practically catching the goddamn light and Ryan is not equipped to handle this, he’s just not.

“Jesus Christ, Shane,” he yelps, practically divebombing into the couch cushions and ignoring the rush of heat in his cheeks. “Put some clothes on, dude!”

A beat of silence passes.

“Oh, you’re here, Ryan?” Shane asks, followed by the clink of a dish hitting the counter and the rustle of cereal pouring. His voice is all sleep-soft and hoarse, and oh god, that’s almost worse than the nudity. Almost. “Sorry, bud," Shane mumbles around a yawn. "Forgot about ya stayin’ over.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” Ryan says, muffled against the cushion he’s attempting to become one with. “Just – get dressed, maybe? You’re kind of… “ He trails off pointedly, hoping that Shane will get with the program and get some fucking clothes on before Ryan loses it.

“Oh yeah,” Shane murmurs, like he's just realized he’s stark ass naked and giving his friend an eyeful. “Whoops." 

_Whoops?!_ Ryan thinks, boggling at Shane’s utter lack of fucks. He keeps his head buried in the couch cushions as he listens to the shuffle of bare feet on tile and the muffled crunch of Shane eating his cereal. _Eating his cereal naked_ , his mind gleefully reminds him, and Ryan's face flares a bright, hot red. He's tempted to just grab his shit and flee out the front door; it's only the possibility of getting another eyeful of Shane that keeps him planted firmly on the couch.

It's only after he hears the clatter of dishes in the sink and the soft pad of Shane's footsteps heading down the hall, followed by his voice calling, "Gonna go shower. Help yourself to some breakfast," over his shoulder that Ryan feels safe enough to lift his head again.

He catches a glimpse of a round backside and the long slope of a smooth, pale back before Shane disappears into his bedroom, and though Ryan adverts his eyes the image remains, emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids. His face feels flushed and his stomach has gone tight and hot, neither of which he can blame on the alcohol working through his system, and Ryan muffles a strangled groan of pure torment into his hands as he finally gives in and fesses up, at least to himself.

He's fucked.

 

Work is... awkward, to say the least. Ryan keeps to himself and barely glances away from his computer screen, convinced that Shane will take one look at his face and know exactly what sort of thoughts have been flooding his head, thoughts about long limbs and bare skin and sleepy eyes that go well beyond mere platonic curiosity. 

He can feel Shane looking at him throughout the day, no doubt picking up on the tension between them, and though Ryan knows he could diffuse the situation if he just pasted a smile on his face and acted normal for one goddamn minute, he can't erase the image of Shane's broad shoulders and wiry arms and long legs from his mind. He can't ignore his reaction to them, either: the way his pulse kicked up and a familiar warmth settled in his belly as he sat there on the couch and listened to Shane sing in the shower, the way he'd fled before Shane even finished, afraid that if he stayed he would do or say something rash and Shane would see everything that he was trying to hide.

He escapes to Ghoul HQ during lunch, his food lying still wrapped and untouched on the table and his head in his hands as he contemplates the mess he’s landed himself in. Jesus, why did he have to ask Shane about that stupid video anyway? Why’d he have to be curious about it in the first place? He could have gone the rest of his life without knowing that Shane liked to be a little nude in his apartment every once in a while and he would have been fine, instead of having some sort of weird crisis because he’d seen it happen in real life and _liked_ it.

_Fuck_. Ryan allows his forehead to fall to the table, barely registering the spike of pain as it connects with a dull thud, and groans miserably.

“Ryan?”

Ryan jumps, shooting up from the table and glancing toward the doorway. He can’t even be surprised to see Shane standing there, one hand wrapped around the doorknob and the other curled around a drink carrier holding two gently steaming cups of what Ryan bets is the expensive coffee from that place down the block. There’s a strange look on Shane’s face, one that Ryan almost doesn’t recognize because he doesn’t see it that often. Shane is _nervous_.

“Can I come in?” Shane asks, lifting the drink carrier and shooting Ryan a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Brought a peace offering and everything.”

“Shane… “ Ryan starts, stricken. He feels like a fucking dick, knowing it’s his fault that Shane’s wearing that look on his face. “C’mon, dude. It’s your place too, you don’t have to ask.”

Shane shrugs, ducking carefully into the room and nudging the door shut with his hip. He settles down in his usual spot beside Ryan but doesn’t bother to reach for his drink, even though he looks like he would appreciate the extra dose of caffeine. “It’s just – you’ve kind of been avoiding me all day, Ryan,” he says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his longs legs out beneath them. Ryan would almost think he was unconcerned if it weren’t for the furrow of his brows and the frown on his face. “If this is about the other morning… Look, I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t remember you were there – “

“No, no,” Ryan interrupts, ignoring the way his heart has climbed into his throat. He can’t listen to Shane apologize when it’s not his fault that Ryan’s like this. “Just. Stop for a minute, okay? I’m not upset or whatever. I’m not mad at you.”

Shane studies him like he doesn’t quite believe him. Ryan ignores how much that hurts, knowing that his behavior all day hasn’t helped his case. “Then what’s up with you? Did something happen after you left my place?”

Ryan shakes his head, reaching for the words, any words at all, to diffuse this situation and finding none. None except for the truth, anyway, and he’s suddenly scared shitless. What if Shane hates him for this? “Fuck, just. I can’t stop thinking about it, okay?”

Now Shane just looks confused. “About what?”

“About you, and that stupid Sims video, and what you told me, and it’s so fucking ridiculous, Shane, because it’s not a big deal, and I know that, but I still keep thinking about it, anyway, and I tried it and it was fucking weird but not in a bad way? And then you had to go and fucking – eat cereal all naked and shit, like it wasn’t a big deal that I was there, that I’d seen you, and I had to leave, okay? Because I knew if I stayed I’d end up saying something stupid and then you’d know – “ Ryan trails off, only just now realizing that he’s breathing a little hard, because Shane’s looking at him like he’s never seen him before, his eyes wide with something like shock, but also something like wonder, and Ryan doesn’t know how to deal with that, not even a little fucking bit.

“What would I know, Ryan?” Shane asks him, his voice gone softer and a little husky. He hasn’t looked away from Ryan once, and it’s hard to say anything with that stare trained on him, but fuck it, why stop now when he’s come this far?

“You’d know that I can’t stop thinking about you, about wanting to see you and touch you and – “ His courage fails him, because Jesus Christ, this is so over the line, he’s gonna ruin the best friendship he’s ever had if he keeps on like this, if he hasn’t wrecked it already –

“You scared the hell out of me that morning, you know?”

Ryan blinks, the anxious spiral of his thoughts drawing to a screeching halt at Shane’s words. “What?”

“When I saw you on the couch,” Shane continues. “When I realized what’d I’d done, that you had seen me – maybe I looked fine on the outside, but I was losing my shit, Ryan.”

Somehow the thought makes Ryan smile, hearing that he wasn’t the only one affected by what had happened that morning. “Really?”

Shane huffs out a laugh, tipping his head back. “Yeah, really. The only reason I didn’t haul ass back into my room was because I knew you were freaking out and that only would have made you freak out more. And then I came back out and you were gone, anyway, and. Well.” He shrugs, but Ryan knows what he’s not saying, that he’d jumped to the conclusion that Ryan was angry or upset or uncomfortable and he’d been beating himself up for it ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan says, and he is. He’d never meant to make Shane think he’d done something wrong. He’d just been so wrapped up in his own head that he hadn’t even taken into consideration what Shane might think about him leaving like that.

Shane shakes his head, like that wasn’t the response he was looking for. “Do you mean it? You couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

Ryan swallows, feeling a tell-tale warmth flood his cheeks. “I mean it. You and your stupid nudist habits, making me act like a bonehead, like I had some sort of, some sort of – “ He loses his train of thought, because Shane’s leaning in, his arm sliding over the back of Ryan’s chair and tucking against the line of his shoulders, warm through his denim jacket.

“A crush?” Shane fills in, a smirk curling his lips. Ryan can’t even fault him for it, not really. He’d probably feel pretty smug, too, if their roles were reversed. “Is that it? You got a crush on me, Bergara?”

Ryan kind of wants to wipe the smirk off Shane’s face.

He decides to kiss it off, instead, which seems to work much better.

 

Thinking about Shane naked? Not a new thing. Being naked _with_ Shane? Now that’s new. New, slightly terrifying, and also really fucking amazing

There's so much to explore. Ryan's already feeling overwhelmed and Shane hasn't even lost his pants yet, though the wet, hungry kisses Shane keeps pressing to his throat might have a little something to do with that. 

They’re tangled together in Shane’s massive bed, the sheets rucked up beneath them and Shane’s hips slotted between Ryan’s thighs. Their mouths still taste faintly of popcorn from the movie they’d tried and failed to watch the whole way through, only managing to last an hour before a few lingering kisses had turned into a heated makeout session and they had wound up here, Shane’s shirt discarded somewhere between the door and the bed and Ryan divested of everything but his boxer briefs, which Shane seems determined to rid him of.

Ryan gladly helps him along, kicking them free as Shane pushes them over his hips. His head tips back, lips parting on a sigh as Shane tucks their groins together, the friction of his jeans rubbing against Ryan’s bare cock a touch away from being too much. Needing something to hold on to, Ryan’s hands grapple for Shane’s shoulders and curl tight over warm, soft skin. It’s a good fucking thing, too – Shane seems intent on taking his time, tonguing at the hollow of Ryan’s throat like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be, and it isn’t until Ryan groans, needy and low, that he finally decides to move on, ducking down to nibble at Ryan’s pec and chuckling as a curse falls from Ryan’s slack lips.

“You’re such a – such a fucking tease, Shane,” Ryan gasps, his fingers spasming around Shane’s shoulders as Shane grips his hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles against the bone.

He feels more than hears Shane’s huff of laughter against his sternum, followed by the scratch of facial hair and the press of soft lips against his abs. “And you’re surprised by this because… ?” Shane murmurs against his navel, the ticklish touch making Ryan’s abdominal muscles twitch and jump beneath his lips.

Ryan can only groan, his hands drifting to Shane’s hair, soft without any product and tousled from Ryan’s fingers running through it during the movie. His cock aches to be touched, the head slick with beads of precome, and his skin tingles with each teasing brush of Shane’s fingers and Shane’s lips, but more than that, more than anything, Ryan aches to touch _Shane_.

“C’mere,” he breathes, tugging gently on Shane’s hair and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck as Shane rises up to meet him. The kiss they share is deep and messy, lips moving languidly against each other, and as Shane sinks into him with a sigh, long fingers stroking up and down his sides, Ryan rolls them around so their position is reversed, with Shane sprawled underneath him and Ryan nestled between his thighs.

Ryan eases away from Shane’s mouth with a last flick of his tongue against the seam of Shane’s lips, meandering along the line of his jaw while his hands explore the curves and dips of Shane’s chest and stomach: down the line of his sternum, over the slight swell of his belly, dragging fingertips slow over his sides. 

There’s a hell of a difference between merely seeing and actually being allowed to touch, and as Shane's skin shivers and warms beneath his palms, Ryan can't keep the look of wonder off his face. He doesn't even try.

Shane's breath comes heavy underneath him, but he doesn't protest as Ryan’s palms stroke over his hips and down to his waistband, fingers popping the button free and dragging down the zip. He lifts his hips and wiggles free of his jeans and underwear, kicking them off the edge of the bed, and Ryan doesn't waste a moment reaching for all of that newly bared skin, marveling as he smooths his hands over Shane’s thighs. They’re long like the rest of the him, leanly muscled, and _strong_ , and having them wrapped around his waist is suddenly all that Ryan wants in life.

"Eager?" Shane chuckles, his voice smooth and deep, and arousal fizzles at the base of Ryan’s spine as he leans back on his haunches, taking a good, long look at his boyfriend (and fuck, isn’t that something, that he can call this lanky goofball his? He’d never fucking seen it coming.)

Shane’s perched on his elbows, watching Ryan with a look on his face Ryan’s never seen before. His eyes are soft and dark, the lines around them crinkling with remnants of his mirth, and there’s a noticeable ruddy color to his cheeks, half hidden beneath his stubble.

“Somethin’ wrong with that?” Ryan huffs, curling his hands around Shane’s thighs and guiding them up and around his hips, shivering as those long, long legs wrap around his waist. Holy fuck, there really is nothing like it; he doesn’t think anything can beat the sensation of Shane’s heels resting against his lower back and their cocks pressed up against each other, each graze of hot, slick flesh sending jolts of electricity crackling along the length of Ryan’s spine.

“Nah,” Shane rasps, his chest beginning to heave as his breaths come faster. He tilts his head back, fingers twining around handfuls of the bedsheets, and laughs a little. “Jus’ – never saw you look at me that way, before.”

Ryan grins, fierce and bright in the darkness of the bedroom. He reaches for Shane’s hands, tangling their fingers together and raising Shane’s hands above his head, pressing them down against the mattress. “Get used to it, big guy,” he rumbles, ducking down to press his mouth against Shane’s jaw. His hips roll, a slow, sinuous grind that has them both gasping, a wave of desire flooding sweet and molten through Ryan’s veins. “Fuck, Shane. You look – you _feel_ – “

He feels more than sees Shane nod his head before there are lips running hot over his cheek, chasing his own mouth. “I know,” Shane rasps against his lips, breaths mingling as they continue to grind against each other, dicks leaking precome and slicking the way. “You, too, baby. S’good, feels so good – “ His voice trails off into a hungry moan as they kiss, his tongue pushing through the seam of Ryan’s lips to tangle with his. They’re quick to fall into a rhythm, hips rolling in tandem and mouths parting for breath, only to meet once more, again and again. Shane’s fingers clench around Ryan’s as the pressure builds in their bellies, the soft _shlick_ of their cocks catching against each other adding to the cacophony of their sighs, the hoarse grunts Ryan can’t contain and Shane’s gravelly voice, whisper-soft in his ear and calling his name like a mantra until it’s all Ryan can hear.

They cum one right after the other, muffling their shouts in a deep, breathless kiss that lacks all finesse, hips softly rolling through their orgasms until oversensitivity forces them to stop. They’re slick with sweat and cum in the aftermath, limbs aching with a sweet, well-earned exhaustion, and Ryan can’t help but wheeze softly into the damp hollow of Shane’s throat, feeling Shane’s chest shake beneath him as he joins in.

In the morning, Ryan will wake up bare and sleepy, Shane’s long limbs wrapped around him. They’ll kiss each other awake, even as they complain about morning breath and bed hair and the tacky remnants of cum they’d never bothered to clean before falling asleep. Maybe Shane will pull him into the shower, or Ryan will drag them there first, and they’ll bump into each other and crack stupid jokes as they pass the soap back and forth and rinse shampoo from their hair.

And maybe Shane will give him a look afterward, a single, challenging lift of his brow before he loses his towel and saunters out of the bathroom without a stitch on, and Ryan will watch him go, eyes blazing a path over those broad shoulders, down the length of Shane’s back and over the swell of his ass, watching long, bare legs carry Shane out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

And it’ll be weird, and ridiculous, and Ryan will wheeze at the sight of them scrounging for breakfast with their asses bared for the world to see, but that won’t stop him from joining Shane.

Nothing ever does.


End file.
